Comfortable
by Eclectify
Summary: Sometimes you can find comfort in the strangest things...or people. Kamio Akira discovers this when Akutagawa Jiroh decides to make him his newest pillow...


**Title: **Comfortable  
**Pairing: **Hmm...lets just say in involves Kamio and Jiroh. Blink and you'll miss hintings to other pairings.  
**Spoilers: **Erm...a mention of events around the Rikkai Arc.  
**Disclaimer: **I do not own these boys...and I shall have years of therapy to help me get over this.  
**Authors Comment:s **First Prince of Tennis fanfic. Written for tempsmort and the "With Friends Like These" Challenge. aishuu asked for: Kamio fic, but... give me crack. No pairing him with Tachibana, Momo, Shinji, An... or Atobe. And I want to see the major fukubuchou who's second in command, not the spazz... so no spazz attacks!

Kamio was...like always...in the rhythm.

One sneakered foot beat against the concrete like a bass drum, ball against racket string a pulse in tune with his heartbeat, the one ball point pen scratching against paper building a intricate pattern as much music to his ears as the melodies and harmonies his diskman usually played.

A diskman that sat, silent, against the surface of the street court bleacher he had settled himself on.

His earphones lay dejected by his backpack, snaking across the concrete in the haphazard way they'd fallen when they'd been tugged from Kamio's ears. Usually, he would keep the world at bay by drowning in his music, damming the maelstrom of chaotic thoughts behind a wall of sound.

But today he had to stay focused on the world outside of percussion and synthesizers and be content with the resounding thump of ball hitting racket instead of a cadence of notes pounding through tiny speakers.

Kamio chewed the end of his pen, using the brittle plastic nub to scratch an itch on the bridge of his nose.

Today, somehow, the consistency of sound from the tennis games played on the courts below soothed him more than his music. Though he itched to be free from these responsibilities, to be down there...feet hitting pavement, racket hitting ball, lost in the rhythm of the game he loved...the papers scattered across his legs weighed enough to keep him grounded. He owed his captain, his team, his full attention and Kamio refused to allow his thirst for movement and the siren's call of a street tennis battle to tempt him away from his duties.

If it took until dark to finish, then tennis matches could wait until the large spotlights shone across the courts and the practice schedules, training menus and line-ups were back in their place in his backpack.

Half listening to the goings on below him, lips twitching in a smile as a monotone drone drifted up to meet his ears (Kamio wondered who happened to be on the receiving end of Shinji's mutterings this time), the redhead began scratching out the beginnings of a training schedule that would...he hoped...prepare the Fudomine team for the nationals. Though they increased in strength day by day, they still lacked the skills they needed to be true competition against the heavy weights of Rikkai and Seigaku. With Tachibana still in physio regaining full use of his injured ankle, most of the responsibly fell on Kamio's shoulders. Of course he still had his captain and his team-mates to turn to...Shinji had been victim of his temper laden rants more often than not in the past weeks, An-chan and her camcorder his persistent companion on information gathering missions...but failing to prepare his team , failing to prepare himself was simply not an option.

"Ishida's Hadoukyuu...I've seen Seigaku's Kawamura. His is still stronger, faster...Tachibana said Ishida'd have to work harder on developing his form...though can we guarantee Kawamura will be playing...with Tezuka still out it's a certainty..."

Kamio's pen flew across the lined pages, his erratic thought processes captured for him to make sense of later. At least he'd have something to show Tachibana when he visited later with Shinji to give him an update on the team's training.

"I've got to work on my stamina...won't let my rhythm break...Shinji could improve his serve...drills...need to get Mori and Uchimura to..."

Kamio didn't know what to think when the thud of a head promptly landing on his back broke into his concentration, the sudden jolt scattering the homework, practice schedules and team line-ups resting on his knees. Only just managing to save himself a rather nasty and embarrassing eye injury via ball point pen, Kamio spun around to uncover his attacker. A flash of pale blue and black, a muttered grumble that resembled very little of normal speech his only clue, Kamio found himself with a growth now attached to his back and...was that DROOL he felt seeping through the cotton of his tennis shirt?! Griping his pen like a dagger...the plastic covered blue ink his only and last defence against the obviously deranged person now clutching at him like a well used teddy bear, Kamio violently shrugged his shoulders.

"Whoever the hell you..."

The thunderous protest choked in the red head's throat, when the weight from his back disappeared. A sigh of relief and barely suppressed anger ready to escape from his throat, Kamio whirled to tear this arsehole a new mouth...preferably somewhere in their stomach...when a head of cinnamon curls unexpectedly dropped onto his thigh. Blue orbs snapped wide with shock at the blatant lack of respect for personal space, as his leg was snuffled gently by a tanned nose.

"Whaa...?!" A cheek pressed firmly against the muscled flesh of his thigh, soft puffs of breath ghosting across the skin just beyond the hem of his shorts. Eyelashes fluttered against the thin fabric and Kamio could feel them dance even through the material.

CRAAACK

Distantly, Kamio felt the jagged edges of broken plastic digging into his palm and the cool stickiness of ink coating the calloused skin. Unclenching his fist and allowing the pen pieces to clatter to the ground, hands hovered in shocked uncertainty over the body now contently making his leg their new pillow. Kamio didn't know whether to scream in outrage and shove the offending dead weight away from his person or draw it closer so he could strangle it.

In that split moment of indecision, however, his thigh was claimed with a happy sigh and snore as Akutagawa Jiroh's newest pillow.

Kamio gave the boy a rough shake, cursing his bad luck to be the latest victim of the tennis player with the narcoleptic tendencies. He'd never really met the Hyotei regular before. Heard of him? Most definitely. Everyone who frequented the street courts and those playing in the regionals had heard of the tennis player on the Hyotei team who feel asleep everywhere. Seen him play before? Absolutely! Kamio had caught a game between Jiroh and Atobe on the street courts once and couldn't fault the sleepy boy's skill at all.

Jiroh was talented.

He was also making himself entirely too comfortable on Kamio's leg.

Shoving once again at the sleeping boy, Kamio sighed explosively.

"Akutagawa...Akutagawa!" Hands clenched against the one shoulder Kamio had access to. "Wake up, damn it. I'm not your pillow!"

A muffled snort and a nuzzle to his leg was his only reply.

Kamio shivered.

Raising a hand to shove the presumptuous boy's head off of his lap, Kamio's hand tangled in thick curls.

And stilled.

Had Akutagawa just _purred_ ?!

Eyes widening, Kamio's fingers carded through strands and sure enough a low rumble of pleasure rewarded his efforts. Despite himself, Kamio chuckled, fingers never stilling in their gentle caress. As the sleeping one pressed his head almost subconsciously against the petting hand, soft purrs escaping his lips, one hand drifted up to rest by his cheek.

Kamio's hand stilled as the muscles in his leg quivered, Jiroh's fingers tracing idle patterns against his inner thigh. A shiver dancing down his spine at the intimate contact, Kamio almost pushed the owner of that caressing hand rudely to the floor, but another happy sigh stopped him. When lips quirked into a sleepy, happy smile as Kamio once again began sliding his fingers through Jiroh's hair, Kamio couldn't help returning it.

"You're just like a kitten."

Jiroh snuffled.

Kamio chuckled, surprised at how soothing it was, petting this stranger who had decided his lap looked inviting. More soothing than the sounds of tennis games he couldn't play until he'd finished...

Kamio groaned.

Glancing down at his now scattered papers, the one resting under his supporting palm stained blue with the spilled ink on his hand, Kamio closed his eyes to ward of the anger and frustration.

"This is all your fault you know."

Jiroh snored.

"I had this all organised until you landed you dead weight against my back. Go sleep on your own team-mates. I'm sure they're used to you by..."

Kamio's voice died in his throat as Jiroh snuffled against his leg, his fingers still tracing idle patterns on Kamio's inner thigh. His free hand crept up the opposite leg, hand splaying possessively over one sharp hipbone.

His purring stopped at Kamio's sharp intake of breath.

Kamio fought to regain some control over his body as Jiroh's innocent touches brought about by sleep sent warmth pooling in his groin. Just when had soothing turned into arousing?!

Deciding to hell with it, Kamio removed his hand from Jiroh's hair with every intention of pushing him onto the floor. But with a disappointed sigh, Jiroh turned his face from its burrow and stilled the fingers tracing against Kamio's thigh.

Kamio paused.

"Do you even know what you're doing? No, I suppose you don't." Hand drifting to comb through curls without thought, Kamio relaxed. "You're lucky you know. Sleeping whenever, wherever...not having to worry about anything." Kamio gave his scattered papers a baleful glare. "Though you'd probably never respect your captain, love your team as much as I do. Do anything for them like I would."

Jiroh sighed, snoring softly.

"I hope I doing this right. I'm not Tachibana...I can't unite a whole team on sheer prescience and will alone. But I have to...and next year when he graduates..." Kamio's voice trailed off. Not once did he wonder at the flow of confession he offered to the near stranger sleeping contentedly on his lap. The soft snores and possessive grasp he found himself entwined in left him feeling more comfortable then he'd felt in awhile. While, he supposed, it should have shocked him, Kamio was too lost in his own thoughts and the feel of silken hair through his fingers to really care.

"Jiroh."

The commanding drawl stilled Kamio's hand and he pulled his fingers free from Jiroh's hair as if it had bitten him.

Eyes snapped up to meet the Hyotei captain's. "Atobe."

Atobe dutifully ignored Kamio after sparing him a raised eyebrow and a superior smirk. Instead he focussed his attention on the still sleeping boy almost curled entirely in Kamio's lap. Frowning in almost comical exasperation, the arrogant one lifted his fingers and snapped.

"Kabaji. Wake Jiroh."

"Usu."

How the monolith of a teenage appeared that quickly out of nowhere, Kamio would never know. But, suddenly possessed by a rather strange notion, Kamio gave Jiroh a gentle shake before he could be hauled up by his ankle or some other body part.

"Akutagawa-san?"

A snore was his only reply.

Atobe waved one hand, stilling Kabaji's second attempt to haul Hyotei's Singles Two up by his ankles. This little scene was amusing.

"Akutagawa-san?" Kamio tried again, his hand gripping one shoulder gently as he shook the sleeping boy, fingers tracing without thought over the fabric clad shoulder.

With a snort and a slight shudder, Jiroh pressed his cheek deeper into Kamio's leg looking remarkably content with just where he was thank you very much. Still, the head of curls turned to allow a jaw braking yawn free, fingers trailing over skin as Jiroh slid his hands away from their perch on Kamio's hip and inner thigh. Peering down at the boy who looked for all his worth like a kitten waking from a nap in a particularly warm ray of sun, Kamio couldn't fight back the smile that curved his lips. Finally, eyelids parted to reveal eyes far too keen and awake to belong to someone who had been gripped firmly by the realms of sleep. Akutagawa rarely heard, saw, sensed anything when napping it was said...though Kamio had heard the boy played tennis games...won tennis games in his sleep.

But the gaze directed up at him wasn't the gaze of someone just waking.

Something unknown pooled in his stomach at the sight of those mocha-coloured eyes gazing up at him, the memory of hands against the skin of his thighs, splayed across his hipbone, the soft brush of breath and the flutter of eyelashes...the feel of hair slipping through his fingers...had Kamio's hand drifting towards one tanned cheek. As they trailed over his flesh, Jiroh's eyes danced with warmth, lips curling into a smile.

A amused chuckle abruptly reminded Kamio he wasn't alone with the kittenish boy still curled on his lap. Once again jerking away from Jiroh, Kamio directed a annoyed glare at Atobe who looked rather amused by the sight of his team-mate and one of the alley cats from Fudomine playing 'happy lovers'.

"As touching as this scene is, Ore-sama is leaving. Come Jiroh." Atobe strode away without another word, Kabaji following.

Jiroh's eyes lingered on Kamio's until finally he stretched and sat, rubbing his eyes to banish sleep Kamio wasn't entirely convinced had ever taken place. Though, really...Akutagawa would use anyone as his pillow. Why would Kamio, who the Hyotei boy didn't even know, be anyone different.

Somehow, the smile still lingering in Jiroh's eyes as he stood to follow Atobe gave Kamio a different impression. Hand shooting out to snag the hem of Jiroh's T-shirt, Kamio stopped the boy before he could walk further.

"Thank you for listening."

"Huh? You were talking to me?" Jiroh yawned and freed himself from Kamio's grasp.

"You..."

But Jiroh was already walking away, following in Atobe's wake as the captain sauntered across the courts. Kamio shook his head, eyes drifting closed trying to dislodge the fog that seemed to have settled over his mind ever since Jiroh had so rudely decided he was his new...

"Good luck, Kamio-kun."

...pillow...

Eyes snapped open just in time to catch a fleeting glance of warm brown eyes and a kind smile before Jiroh had stumbled onto the courts. Kamio's eyes followed as he trailed after Atobe, the perpetually sleepy player's jaw splitting open in a wide yawn as he stretched. Turning away as the pair faded into the crowds surrounding the courts, lips unable to banish the soft smile that had crept upon them, Kamio carefully gathered the fallen notes at his feet. Stuffing them into a binder and slipping it into his bag, he reached out for his tennis bag. Freeing his racket Kamio turned to the courts and spotting the blue/violet hair of his best friend, trotted down the bleachers.

"Oi! Shinji!"


End file.
